Go the Whole Wide World

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The standard "I don't own them, please don't sue" should suffice, don't you think?

Archive: If you've got my stuff already, otherwise just ask.

Summary: Wesley finds himself with business in Rome, and Angel sends Spike along for company, wanting to get him out of his hair. It's amazing how small the world is sometimes. Set sometime after Why We Fight.

A/N: spikes_lady asked for Spike and Wesley bonding with possible Spuffy. I hope this suits.

Chapter 7: Letting Go

"It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend." ~William Blake

When Buffy finally awoke, it was mid afternoon, and the twelve hours of sleep had just taken the edge off of her exhaustion. She didn't relish the idea of seeing Spike again, not after his cool attitude the night before. Not that Buffy could blame him; she'd been angry after he had slept with Anya, whether it had been logical or not.

All she wanted was a hot shower, and maybe something to eat. If she could avoid a confrontation with Spike, that would be nice.

Buffy came out of her bedroom reluctantly, after having caught a glimpse of just how bad she looked in her dresser mirror. Spike was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels. Since Buffy was still struggling with her Italian, she really didn't watch a lot of television. "Hey."

He glanced up, his expression carefully neutral. "H'lo. Sleep okay?"

"Pretty good." She hesitated. "Where's Wes?"

"He left to get something to eat," Spike replied. "He was gonna pick up some blood for me, too. Hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. You guys are welcome to stay here as long as you need. There isn't a lot of space, but—"

Spike cut her off. "We'll see what Red has to say."

Buffy blinked. "Wait. What? Willow?"

A smile teased the corners of his lips. "Very well articulated," Spike teased.

Buffy glared at him. "Spike. What about Willow?"

"Wesley called her this mornin' on Dawn's suggestion. We're thinkin' that she might be able to give you a hand with your problem." Spike was careful to avoid her eyes. "I'd feel better knowin' that she was here, 'specially if we've got to head back to L.A."

Buffy felt her heart sink "You're leaving?"

"Eventually," Spike said. "You don't need me here."

"But you're needed in L.A.?"

"Buffy, I—"

"I can't do this." She fled to the bathroom, locking herself in and turning on the water. Things had been so good between the two of them before the final battle, and now...

It was like all of the repair work they'd done on their relationship had never happened.

Buffy let the hot water run over her, unknotting tense muscles, even though it couldn't quite soothe the ache in her heart. Now that she'd gained some distance, Buffy felt used. If she believed that Antonio actually cared for her—even a little bit—it wouldn't have been so bad, but she didn't.

It was worse than Parker; at least she'd wanted him. This had been rape.

She stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out, and then took her time getting dressed, wanting to delay the inevitable as long as she could. By the time she came back out to the living room, Wesley had returned, and Spike was drinking from a tub full of blood.

"We do have glasses," she informed him.

He shrugged. "Didn't want to dirty your dishes."

"I don't mind." When Spike remained stubbornly silent, Buffy turned to Wesley. "Any word?"

"Willow is supposed to call once she's made travel arrangements," Wesley replied. He looked at her apologetically. "I'd like to suggest that you not be alone until we've determined what's going on, Buffy. It's entirely possible that it's nothing, but I would think that it would be better to be overcautious in this case."

She nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right. We all saw how good my willpower is around Antonio last night."

"You feelin' better?" Spike asked.

Buffy wasn't certain, but she thought that the vampire might be softening a bit. "A little."

"Why don't you let me look at your leg," Wesley suggested. "I'd like to be sure that it's healing."

Buffy thought about arguing, but she decided that it would be easier to do as he asked. She sat down on the chair and pulled up her long skirt slightly. She'd put another light dressing on it after getting out of the shower, and Wesley pulled it back slightly to check its progress.

"It's looking better," he announced. "I don't think you need a trip to the doctor."

Although Wesley didn't mention the fact that the wound should probably have been completely healed at this point, Buffy knew he was thinking it. He had that look on his face that Watchers had probably patented, reserved for unruly Slayers prone to getting into trouble.

"Not healing still, huh?" Spike asked from the couch. Apparently, he'd learned how to read Watcher body language, too.

"There's been progress," Wesley said neutrally. "But not as much as I'd like to see."

Spike leaned back against the couch, his legs sprawled in front of him. "Explain to me again why we can't just find this bastard and beat the shit out of him."

"Because it wouldn't be prudent," Wesley replied. "And we can't afford to make an enemy, not when we're planning on staying on in Rome."

Buffy sat up straight at that bit of news. "You guys are staying?"

"I had to call Angel earlier," Wesley explained. "I told him that we'd had a run in with the Immortal, and that it was causing us some trouble."

"You didn't tell him about my role in this?"

"Spike said that it would be a bad idea, and I thought that he might be right," Wesley replied. "In any case, from what Ilona told Spike, Wolfram and Hart may have some connection to him, and if that's the case, I'd like to know about it."

"So, you still don't know anything about the cyborgs?" she asked.

Wesley sighed. "I know a little more than I did before. They're part of a quasi-religious order, although I'm not entirely sure what their mission is, or whether the alterations are made by choice, or..." He trailed off, shrugging. "It's hard to tell. The next time I have a run in with one, however, I think I may ask it a few questions."

Buffy thought that his tone was probably deceptively light, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Wesley had become a hard ass over the years. It was a good look for him. She glanced over at Spike. "You're staying, too?"

The vampire looked uncomfortable. "Yeah. Angel sent me to watch his back."

Buffy noticed that he didn't say anything about staying for her, but that was probably fair. She didn't think she'd really given him a reason to stay.

~~~~~

Dawn had never been so grateful to see Willow in her entire life. Spike and Buffy were killing her, what with all the longing looks and poignant silences. It made the apartment feel entirely too small. She was hoping that Willow would help her lock her sister and the vampire in a room together and not let them out until they'd talked about things.

Or something. Just as long as some of the tension dissipated.

"Willow!" Dawn hugged her fiercely. "I'm so glad you're here."

Willow pulled back, frowning. "Are things really that bad?"

"No," Dawn admitted, "but I'm hoping you'll help me." She looped her arm through Willow's. "Did you bring a suitcase?"

"I thought I'd better," Willow replied. "Since I wasn't sure how long I'd be staying. How are we getting home?"

"Wesley's got a driver," Dawn explained. "Wes just had to make a phone call." She caught sight of Wesley's lean form near the baggage claim. "There he is." Dawn nudged Willow, keeping her voice low. "You didn't tell me he was a hottie now!"

Willow flushed. "I wasn't paying much attention last time I saw him."

Something about the expression on Willow's face told Dawn that the woman was paying attention now. "Anyway, the other Slayers are staying with Buffy, and Spike said he had an errand to run."

Willow's eyes widened. "You're not leaving Buffy alone?"

"The last time we did that, the Immortal showed up, and Buffy had to leave his place through the window." Dawn let her worry show, knowing that Willow would understand. "Buffy passed out yesterday after he spent the night, just like Mom did when she—"

"It's not like that," Willow assured her. "If he's messing with Buffy, we'll get to the bottom of it and stop him. I'm sure that Spike will be happy to help out."

Dawn snorted. "Spike will tear him limb from limb."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Wesley said smoothly, having caught the tail end of their conversation. "Did you have any bags, Willow?"

"Just one," she replied cheerfully. "You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you, Wes."

He ran a hand over his face, and Dawn wondered if he'd had more or less stubble then. Although, if he'd had more, he'd have been bearded. "I haven't been in quite as many fights recently," he replied.

"That's good to hear." Willow reached for her bag, but Wesley got to it first. "Thanks," she said, flushing.

Dawn watched intently as he offered her a courteous smile. "Shall we? The car should be waiting for us."

"A car, huh?" Willow asked. "You're moving up in the world."

"It's one of the perks of working for the law firm," he admitted. "There are a few."

"Enough to balance out the fact that it's an evil law firm?" Willow asked archly.

Wesley shrugged. "We're changing that."

Dawn didn't think he sounded terribly sure of that.

~~~~~

As soon as the sun had gone down, Spike had felt the need to get some fresh air. Knowing that the younger Slayers would keep a close watch on Buffy—and that Alessandra would be happy to put a stake into the Immortal—allowed him to leave with a clear conscience. He needed to clear his head.

Spike needed to get over the betrayal he was feeling.

Of course, it might have been exacerbated by his previous run-in with the bastard. The Immortal had seduced Darla and Drusilla both, right under his and Angel's noses. That kind of dig was meant to leave a mark, and now it appeared as though the Immortal had targeted his girl again.

Then again, Buffy had been very clear that she would never be his girl, and she had believed him to be dead the first time she'd shagged the wanker. And Spike knew that the Immortal had some sort of unholy control over women—not that they ever seemed to mind.

He just didn't know what to do about it.

Spike slipped inside the demon hangout he'd heard of, taking a seat at the bar and ordering a glass of O neg. He glanced around, wishing that he'd been better about keeping up his contacts in Europe. There had been a time when he'd had a poker buddy in every corner of the globe, but he'd lost touch with most of them—if they weren't dead.

"What brings you to town?" The woman was obviously a vampire and looking to score. Spike's Italian was good enough that he understood her, but he wasn't about to try to communicate in a foreign language for this. It was too important that he get as much good information as possible.

"Business," Spike said in English, then waved to the bartender. "Drink for the lady."

"I'll have what he's having," she said in richly accented English. "A Brit, yes?"

"Where I was born, but I've knocked around the world a bit," Spike said. "What's your name, pet?"

She smiled a sultry smile. "Call me Aria."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady." Spike used just the right smile to accompany the compliment, the one that got him virtually anything he wanted. "I'm Spike."

Knowing how the game was played, Spike kept her talking for a while, spinning tales of his travels that were appropriately bloody. If she noticed that the last six years were a blank, she didn't comment on it.

"Was wondering something," he said after a while. Spike was still nursing his first drink, although there was nothing he would have liked better than to get pissed.

Aria smiled, looking a little predatory. "What's that?"

"You know a bloke who goes by 'The Immortal?'"

Aria's smile faded. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because he screwed one of my women, an' I don't take an insult like that lightly." Spike kept his voice low, remembering that the Immortal had had Rome sewn up tight the last time he'd run into the man. Or whatever he was.

Aria shook her head. "Forget it. He does this many times over. You do not think you were the first jealous lover to wish him dead?"

"Not lookin' to kill him," Spike lied. "In truth, I'd like to know how he did it. She doesn't let just anyone in, you know."

Aria hesitated, then said, "He is not human. If he was once, it is no longer true."

"I'm not exactly human," Spike countered. "Seems like I could tap into that."

"I do not think so." Her troubled expression told Spike that he would get no further with that line of questioning, and he backed off.

It wasn't long before Aria decided to ditch his company, and Spike had to assume that his questioning had scared her off. He knew that the Immortal had the better position at the moment; he knew all the rules, and he owned the turf. Spike was just an interloper.

Not that that had ever stopped him in the past.

It was still a few hours before dawn, but Spike decided that he'd best head back to Buffy's flat. Willow would have already arrived, and he knew that Wesley would probably choose to go back to the hotel, now that Buffy had some protection. He wondered if Willow would also succumb to the Immortal's wiles, or if it only worked on those who might be attracted to him in the first place.

Just what sort of power did he have, anyway?

Spike was too busy puzzling over that question to notice that he was being followed, at least not until he watched as a figure stepped out of the shadows in front of him. He recognized them immediately; the cyborgs didn't quite smell right. Not quite human, and not quite machine, they reminded him of Adam.

And didn't that bring back fond memories?

Spike dropped into a defensive posture immediately, sensing someone else behind him. The streets were quiet, with no foot traffic and very few vehicles on the ancient streets. When he caught sight of two more black-clad figures, he knew he was in trouble. They were strong fighters, and very good at what they did—whatever that happened to be.

At the moment, it seemed that they wanted him, and Spike didn't want to find out whether it was dead or alive, in a manner of speaking. No one knew where he was at the moment, and Spike knew that Buffy didn't need another worry on top of the ones she already had. He was supposed to be the one saving her this time, not the other way around, and Spike wasn't about to get captured or dusted. Not tonight, anyway.

Spike charged straight ahead, bowling the cyborg in front of him over with the force of his attack. He didn't stick around; Spike took to his heels, using his speed to his advantage, with every intention of taking as circuitous a route as possible back to Buffy's apartment, or some other place of safety.

He could only hope he made it there in one piece.

~~~~~

Willow enveloped Buffy in her arms, concerned when Buffy returned her embrace with less than her usual strength. She pulled back to get a better look at her friend.

"How bad do I look?" Buffy asked with a wry smile.

"Not bad at all!" Willow lied. "You look great."

Buffy stepped out of the doorway. "You don't have to lie, Will. I do own a mirror."

Willow winced. "You don't look your best," she hedged.

Buffy sighed. "I know. Willow, you know Julie, and this is Rosalia and Alessandra, my Slayers."

Willow noted the proprietary language, and was a little amused. Giles had said that Buffy was chafing at being forced to train new Slayers, but she seemed to be adjusting. "Nice to meet you all."

The three of them wished her a good night in English and Italian. "We're going to get something to eat," Julie said. "Call if you need anything."

Buffy smiled as they left, and then turned to face Willow again. "Where are Dawn and Wesley?"

"They're lingering," Willow replied. "Dawn said something about needing milk, and Wesley offered to take her to the store. Since he dropped me off first, I'm assuming they're giving us some time to talk."

Buffy shook her head, going over to sit on the couch. "I don't know what's going on, Will."

"What happened with the Immortal?" Willow prompted.

Slowly, Buffy began explaining what had happened. Willow wasn't as interested in the words as she was the emotional content. She could sense the tension, and was reminded of the year after Buffy had returned. There was the same kind of turmoil just below the surface.

"And I don't know," Buffy finished. "I told him no. I told him I didn't want to see him again, and he touched my hand, and..."

"You said yes?" Willow reached out and took Buffy's hand. "Now you feel dirty. You didn't have a choice, Buffy."

Buffy nodded shakily. "I know, but I feel like I betrayed Spike. I knew he was alive when I slept with Antonio the first time, Willow."

"You and Spike aren't together, Buffy," Willow reminded her.

Buffy laughed. "That's what I said. Constantly. The truth is that we never really stopped being together, though. I told him I loved him at the end."

Willow hadn't heard that part of the story. She'd known that Buffy had stayed with Spike in the crumbling cavern, and Buffy had described the way their hands had been engulfed in flames. "You left out that part."

"He told me that I didn't, but thanks for saying it." Buffy rose from the couch and paced over to the window. "Spike didn't tell me he was back because he didn't believe me, and then—"

"I don't think you can blame yourself." Willow watched her with compassion. "Do you still love him?"

"I never stopped." Buffy faced her. "I don't know what to say to him."

Willow took a deep breath. She had been good at this, once upon a time. She'd been a great best friend, and then she'd let Buffy down. Although there had been a lot of repair work done on their friendship since then, Willow knew that it wasn't like it used to be.

She had the chance to be a real friend again.

"We'll figure it out," Willow promised. "But first we need to make sure that there isn't any kind of outside influence slowing down the healing process. I think that has to come first."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Did Giles find out anything?"

"Not yet," Willow replied. "But he's put a couple of the younger Watchers on it."

Willow had a feeling that this was something they needed to get figured out quick, because if her instincts were right, Buffy's life could depend on it.